It’s been a nice, long, relaxing day here at Casa de Crisco. A power outage thwarted my plans for getting stuff done around the house, and I somehow took it easy despite having a few tasks on my plate. To reward my day of sloth, I am having a pre-dinner cocktail and letting Pandora do its thing.

The American pale ale, when decanted into a pint glass, has a nice burnt orange color to it with a very slight tint showing up in the mostly white head. Carbonation is very active, and it takes an experienced hand not to pour too aggressively and end up with four inches of cloudy foam atop one’s beer. Once the beverage settles the head is about a finger thick, and as fluffy as a cirrocumulus cloud.

The olfactory glands engaged, the beer exhibits a bready aroma, accented by a fair amount of lemon zest.

With gusto I take my first sip of the ale, and I am greeted with the hop forward presence of citrus zest and a sticky sweet mouthfeel. Pondering and sipping further the flavors developing on my palate remind me of iced tea, over brewed and cut with water, lightly sweetened, and then being adulterated further with the lemon juice that comes from the plastic lemons in super market produce aisles.

Now, this might suggest that I think the beer bad or undrinkable, but that’s not the case. The beer is drinkable. More than anything though, this beer feels like it falls short of the quality that Real Ale brings out in their regular production, much less something labeled as their “Brewers’ Cut.”

Happy drinking!

I brew and drink beer, smoke pipes and cigars, eat till I’ve had more than my fill, and escape in pulp rags till my eyes turn buggy. I don’t claim any expertise in any subject other than the chase of my own earthly pleasures. I write to help others find their own pleasures so that together we will decay in spirit with these lesser pursuits.